The Mystery of the Low IQs
by Frokost
Summary: Who is lowering the IQ of the entire Baker Street? Can Sherlock find out? Will Mycroft ever achieve his goal in life?


Mycroft usually spied on his fellow British compatriots everyday. He did that mostly when he was not eating cake or busy kidnapping Watson. One day, when he was spying on Scotland Yard, he saw a pallid man with a face of a dinosaur. His long ugly luscious hair, with grease slipping down along its stringy strands captivated Mycroft. At this instant, Mycroft knew that he was in love. He quickly commanded his slave, Anthea to phone the head of Scotland Yard. Anthea was his slave only because Mycroft had promised her unlimited texting for the rest of her life. Anthea was not able to get in touch with the head of Scotland Yard since he was on a vacation with a Chinese circus troupe, but she reached DI Lestrade. Mycroft snatched the phone away from Anthea and commenced to interrogate Lestrade.

"Greg, who is that voluptuous man with that stony face and greasy hair?" Mycroft inquired.

"Oh, that must be Anderson! I wouldn't call him voluptuous though," Lestrade casually replied.

"That's because you are really stupid."

"Being stupid is not my division."

"That doesn't make sense," Mycroft replied again. Lestrade then hung up.

Mycroft received a phone call immediately after Lestrade hung up. It was from Jawn Watson.

"Quick Minecroft, help us! Everyone in Baker Street suddenly has a lower IQ, even Shirlock! Shitlock told us that he won't solve this case because it's too simple, so only you can help us!" John cried.

Mycroft was not amused. He was also too lovelorn to concentrate and had no desire to help.

"Mycroft, we already have DI Lestrade, Sgt. Donovan, and Andersen from Forensics. You can be a great aid to us."

As soon he heard the name, Anderson, he ran out the door with his umbrella to 221 B Baker Street. Police crowded Captain Hudson's building. Minecroft watched in horror as people threw crumpets at each other. He looked around for Anderson in vain but spotted Sherlock instead. Mycroft approached him but realized that he was arguing with John and Capt. Hudson.

"Johnlock, pay your rent! It's been more than five months, honeys! You know boys, it would be cheaper if John didn't take the bedroom upstairs!" screeched Capt. Hudson.

"Stop shipping us! We have a completely platonic relationship!" complained Johnlock.

Mycroft looked at the crowd at shook his head. The only laudable person in the crowd was Lestrade, who was keeping his cool. Suddenly, he noticed an insidious silhouette lurking around in the shadows. Mycroft judged that this person was meretricious and had a sinister intention. The ineffable noise of the crowd deafened Mycroft as he ran through. The dark figure came into the light as Mycroft identified it as a man with a robust man with a turgid face. Mycroft was soon in reveries. The suspicious figure was Anderson! Mycroft's contingencies and fantasies soon went rapidly through his head. He felt dirty or as if he was a debauchee, but he ingratiated to please Anderson. Anderson, clearly perturbed, ran away with a caterwauling scream. Mycroft attempted to run after Anderson, but was interrupted by Lestrade who was genially eating his donut.

"Move out of the way, you awful man! I hope that rash on your face becomes septic and festers!" insulted Mycroft.

"It's not a rash. It's just a rouged spot that I chafed," insisted Lestrade.

"I was offering a euphemism when I merely called it a rash. It's more like a boil," Mycroft replied.

"Help us! We R gettin dumber!" shouted the crowd, half lethargic, since it was past ten.

The crowd, consisting of a strange menagerie of people, attacked Sherlock. The crowd trampled over Sherlock, who was dilatory and confused. Without feeling abash or abased, Sherlock attempted to abate the anger of the crowd. The aberration of the crowd was too much for him.

"Abet us!" screeched John.

Sherlock took a quick abeyance and fled to the corner. He thought about a while. Abject and miserable, he sunk in grief. Would he have to abjure his position as the greatest consulting detective in the world? He needed an ablution of his mind. He abnegated the fact that he would have to give up.

Suddenly, the conclusion struck his head like the nicotine patches that flowed to his veins everyday. It was Andersen who lowered the IQ of the entire street!

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! Can't you people even think? It's Andersen, remember? I told you all before; he lowers the IQ of the entire street!"

A strange silence deafened the rancor of the crowd.

"I will get t he pitchforks!" screamed a nearby neighbor.

"And I will get the torches!"

"I will fetch the broom!"

"I'll watch midnight telly!"

Mycroft stood there mortified. He couldn't let Lestrade arrest Andersen. He turned to his brother for assistance.

"Please don't let them arrest my true love at first sight," he pleaded.

"Sorry, but he is a menace and a danger to all. It's for your own good," replied Sherlock.

Mycroft watched all the police cars drive away and fade into the light. The green light on the police cars grew dimmer as the distance between him and Andersen increased. A dragon stormed out of the basement and attacked the neighbors. Mycroft didn't notice this, and neither should you, my audience. He walked back to his car, waiting in the darkness. Tomorrow it'll rain in Bouville, and Cardiff.


End file.
